


Knit Gloves

by stopmysinfulhand



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, Other, You can knit, gender neutral reader, it's just fluff i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmysinfulhand/pseuds/stopmysinfulhand
Summary: You make Mando a gift, and he's very grateful.Set around mid season 1.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	Knit Gloves

“Mando!”

The Mandalorian hardly turned his head, just kept fiddling with some broken piece on the side of the Razor Crest. You weren’t shocked to find him there; something was always broken on the Razor Crest. “What?” came his modulated voice. 

“I made you a present,” you said brightly, hoping off of the ramp and onto the soft grass. You sighed softly, taking a moment to wiggle your bare feet in the grass. It had been so long since you’d been to a planet with foliage of any kind. You held Mando’s present behind your back and skipped over to him. “Wanna see?”

“I’m busy,” he said shortly, but not unkindly. 

“It’ll just take a second,” you chided. “And I spent so long on them…” You gave Mando your best impression of the Kid, looking at him with big eyes. 

Mando sighed and stood up straight, brushing dirt from his knee. “What is it?” he asked. 

“Close your eyes and hold out your hand,” you ordered. He held out his gloved hand, but obviously you couldn’t make sure his eyes were closed. “Are your eyes closed?”

“Yes,” he said wearily. 

You took the present from behind your back and set it in his hand. “Ta-da!”

Mando tilted his helmet down to look at the pair of knitted, fingerless gloves. He remained carefully silent as he examined them.

“I made them for you,” you explained. “I bought some Bantha yarn the last time we were on Tatooine, and I knitted them while you were away on missions and I was watching the Kid.”

Mando slowly looked up at you, tilting his head slightly to the side. “...Thank you,” he said, the emotion filtered out by his helmet’s modulation. You knew he liked them though. You could tell because he immediately stripped off his usual gloves to try on the new fingerless ones. It was interesting to see his hands degloved. You hardly ever saw his bare skin, and when you did, it was only glimpses; a flash of wrist here, a bit of arm through a gash in his undershirt. Seeing his bare hands caused a rush of blood to your face and you looked away, only looking back once he had fitted both of the new gloves onto his hands. 

“How do they fit?” you asked, leaning down to look closer. He offered his hands silently to you for inspection. Mando flexed his hands and turned them over so you could see the back, then turned his palms up again. “They look good. Do they feel okay?”

“Yes,” came his modulated reply. 

“Are they soft?” You received a short nod and you beamed at him. “Thank goodness,” you sighed. “I thought maybe after everything, you deserved a little slice of comfort.” You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small, nearly-identical pair. The only difference was these gloves only had three fingers. “I made some matching ones for the baby,” you gushed. “Aren’t they so little and cute?”

“Like him,” he agreed. “Good job.”

Giddiness overcame you and you had to fight off the urge to hug him. “Thanks, Mando,” you said, placing your hand over your chest. “That means a lot coming from you.” You watched as he turned back to the ship and traded the knitted gloves for his regular ones. He carefully placed the knitted gloves in his utility belt before going back to his tasks. Satisfied he liked his present, you went back inside the ship, picking up the Child before he could wander out and bother his dad. “He liked the gloves,” you informed the little green being in your arms. 

The Child cooed back at you, his big eyes fixed on you. 

You shifted his weight onto your hip and pulled out the little gloves you had stuffed back into your pocket. “Here,” you offered. “I made some for you, too, so you could match your daddy.”

He cheered and snatched them from your hand, immediately stuffing them in his mouth. 

“No!” You couldn’t help but laugh as you sat him down in his alcove and removed the gloves from his mouth. “Ew,” you groaned, wiping the spit off on your pants. “C’mon, little dude, they go on your hands. They’re not edible—” You paused. “I don’t think.” You clarified, “They are probably not edible. Better to be safe than sorry.” You took one of his clawed hands in yours and slipped a glove on it, watching for a negative reaction. When all you got was dazed amazement, you slipped the second one on his other hand. “There. Cozy?” 

The Child cooed and held up his hands for the both of you to look at, the tips of his claws just visible. You turned as Mando entered the ship, joining you by the Kid’s alcove. The Kid showed his dad the gloves, and Mando pulled his set out of his utility belt. “Yeah,” he said, amusement audible through the helmet. “Me too.” 

“Father and son bonding,” you sighed. “That I facilitated. It’s almost domestic.” You smiled, looking up at Mando. “Makes me wish I had a cam on hand.” 

Mando stared at you. At first it had made you uneasy when he did that, but you were used to it now. “What?” you asked. You stared back at the T of his visor. “Too soft of me?”

Mando shook his head and turned away. You picked up the Child and followed Mando to the cockpit, watching him switch out his gloves for your knitted ones before ascending to his pilot’s chair. You sat behind him with the Child settled in your lap. You didn’t look at Mando as you spoke. “Do you… really like them?” you asked hesitantly. The Child looked up at you with big eyes and cooed, both of you waiting for his dad to answer. 

The Mandalorian put in the coordinates for the next destination, lifting the Razor Crest up to the stars. You assumed he just wouldn’t answer, but eventually he turned his pilot’s chair around to face you. The Child was carefully taken from your lap and set in the third chair in the cockpit. “Hey,” Mando said softly. “Look at me.” You did as he asked, looking up at him. Mando reached out and took your hands in his gloved ones. He squeezed your hands. “Close your eyes,” he requested. 

Again, you followed his order and shut your eyes. One of Mando’s hands left yours, and you could hear a soft click and the rustle of him getting up. You automatically tilted your head up to face him, despite your eyes still being closed. “Keep them closed,” said Mando. His voice sounded… different. Warmer. Unmodulated. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt soft lips press against your forehead. He carefully dropped your other hand, a moment passed, and then your face was being tilted up further. “Don’t open yet,” he pleaded. 

“I won’t,” you breathed. 

Those soft lips pressed against yours and you gasped, reaching out for him. Your hands met beskar, and he covered one of them with his much larger hand. You could feel the soft scrape of facial hair, and you tried to eagerly deepen the kiss. He parted from you with a soft chuckle. You heard the soft click of his helmet reattaching, and you let your eyes flutter open. “Is that a yes?” you breathed.

“Yes,” he confirmed, the modulator unable to filter out his laugh. "I love them. Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> This one is about as self-indulgent as it can get, folks. I just want Din to be loved and have nice, soft things.


End file.
